


The Old Switch-a-roo Affair

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:22:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon and Illya swap bodies... that can't be all bad, can it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Old Switch-a-roo Affair

Illya woke and barely kept from groaning.  He remembered being captured by THRUSH, escaping, and literally running into Napoleon.  He remembered a lab, an explosion, and then blessed nothingness.

He opened his eyes to a mere slit, just in case they were being observed.  He could see a dark figure slumped beside him and he reach out.

What the hell was wrong with his hand and why was he wearing Napoleon’s ring?  Where was his ring?  

“Napoleon, wake up!  We’ve…” he muttered and stopped midsentence.  What was wrong with his voice?

The figure beside him stirred and rolled over.  He was looking at himself.  What the fuc…?

“Illya?” He heard his voice ask, but Illya had not spoken.

“I honestly don’t know.”  He watched himself push his way into a sitting position and then stare.

“What the hell…?”    Illya’s hands, well, Napoleon’s hand ran over Illya‘s face.  “What happened?”

“And now you understand my conundrum.”  Illya grunted his way to his feet and peered over the bushes.  “No idea.”

“You have to fix this!” Napoleon demanded and Illya smirked.

“Why?  Is being me that bad?”

“You don’t understand!  I have a date with Margie Saturday night.  She’s expecting me as me, not me as you?”

“Oh, that my worries were so inconsequential. “   A pair of THRUSH guards moved past them and both UNCLE agents fell silent.  “Although it could be much worse,” Illya whispered.

“How?”

“We could be them.”

“Hardy har, har.  Let’s move.”

 

Granted having a different body took a bit of getting used to.  Napoleon’s body didn’t move quite the same as his old one and Illya knew Napoleon was meeting a similar obstacle.  Still, in the end, they were, as always, triumphant.

“Let’s get out of here,” Napoleon ordered as Illya was signing a field report.

“What’s your hurry?  I’d think you’d love that I’m now responsible for typing up our report.”

“I want to get this fix.”

“Is it so bad being me?”

“Let’s just say, the first thing I’m doing when we get back to New York is find a good barber.”

“NO!”

“Very well, Mr. Kuryakin.  If you feel that strongly about it, we shall verify the reports one last time.  Dismissed, gentlemen.”

Illya blinked at Waverly and then at the men sitting around them.   Illya lifted a hand to his face and nearly sighed with happiness at the familiarity of his own features.  Napoleon was studying him from across the table, a look of concern in his brown eyes.  The other section heads were filing out, talking amongst themselves.

Napoleon waited until everyone had left before changing chairs.  “Illya, are you feeling okay?  You seemed a little spacey for a few minutes. I thought you’d fallen asleep.”

Hand trembling just slightly, Illya ran his fingers through his unstylish long blond hair and grinned at his partner.  “I am fine, Napoleon.”  He took a deep sigh of contentment as he brushed his bangs aside.  “Absolutely fine.”  In fact, he felt so fine about his hair, Illya wondered if someday they wouldn’t write a song about it.

_Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair  
Shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen_

_Hair (1967)_


End file.
